


Shadows over Senden

by Minoukatze



Category: Vermintide, Warhammer Fantasy
Genre: Angst, M/M, Origin Story, Portrait of the Hunter as a Young Bean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 13:20:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16787746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minoukatze/pseuds/Minoukatze
Summary: Witch Hunter Captain Johann Weber is dismayed to find himself in the humble satellite town of Senden, where he has been tasked to establish a chapterhouse and establish a Sigmarite foothold in an Ulrican land. Senden, however, proves more interesting than Johann could have imagined; and he finds himself captivated by both a mysterious "bartender" and a charismatic innkeeper. Treachery lurks in the shadows, though, and before Johann can settle in, he must solve the mystery of the disappearing townsfolk. Fortunately, he will have the aid of one brilliant but supremely obnoxious twelve-year-old boy.





	Shadows over Senden

2478 IC-

_Agatha, lass at the inn,_

_With a wink and a flirtatious grin,_

_You sit down beside her,_

_And pay her a fiver,_

_She’ll give you a night full of sin._

The rickety wooden wall was covered in such graffiti, a good amount of it referring to the infamous Agatha and accompanied by obscene drawings. Johann was heartened slightly by a fairly decent Hammer of Sigmar carved into one of the beams amidst all of the vulgarity. _At least one Sigmarite here, at least_ , Johann mused as he knocked at the gate. A panel slid aside to reveal a pair of narrowed eyes. There was a grunt, and the gate opened.

It was a rare and pleasant thing to be welcomed into a town, even if the town itself were not pleasant. Unfortunately, this was not one of those rare and pleasant times. Witch Hunter Captain Johann Weber rode through the gates and found the grim-faced, drably- garbed inhabitants of Senden either peering suspiciously from their shutters or shrinking from his approach. Johann sighed. _Bloody Middenland. Bloody Senden_. _Not even a proper city_. His first assignment after his promotion sent him to a no-account hamlet outside of an actual, proper city. Witch Hunter General Hubertus thought it prudent for the Order of the Silver Hammer to establish a chapterhouse outside of Carroburg, an Ulrican stronghold where both the Carroburg Greatswords and the Order of the Knights Panther held sway. An influx of Templars were soon to arrive, but it was up to Johann to oversee the chapterhouse’s establishment. According to the General, the building was just in its beginning stages, and thus Johann was obliged to stay at the inn in the meantime.

The Traveler’s Respite was a pleasant surprise in the midst of Senden’s surly welcome. The humble yet cozy inn was nestled in a line of dingy white-washed buildings. Johann dismounted and led his weary horse to its stables, where a genial man with a head full of white-blond curls urged the hostler to him.

“We will take care of everything, Sir,” the innkeeper assured Johann as a stout youth took Sterling’s reins. “Your quarters are ready and equipped with everything you could need. We have been awaiting your arrival for quite some time.”

Johann raised his eyebrows. “Really? How is that?”

The blond man smiled enigmatically and guided Johann through the threshold out of the winter chill and into the cozy warmth of the inn. A large fireplace dominated a dining area, where a single dark-haired man nursed a large ale. The diner was a mustachioed middle-aged gentleman in simple garb, but there was something in the way the man’s grey eyes darted up as soon as Johann entered and shrewdly took the hunter’s measure which gave Johann pause.

“Received a note and advance payment for your lodgings,” the innkeeper explained. “Have to say, it’ll be nice to have a bit of backup in these parts. Things have been getting dicey lately.”

“How so?”

“There have always been rumors of beastmen in the woods to the north, but we never had too much trouble. The past few months, though…” The innkeeper trailed off, then shook his head. “The guard captain is probably the one to speak to about such grim business, and I should let you get settled in before weighing you down with such grim tidings. I assume you could do with a hot meal?”

While the innkeeper had been speaking, Johann noticed that the diner was very studiously concentrating upon his stew, undoubtedly taking in every word. Upon perceiving Johann’s notice, he favored the hunter with a close-lipped smile and nod. Johann returned it with a smirk.

“Whatever that fellow has looks toothsome enough,” Johann replied to the innkeeper. “That and a mug of bitter, if you have it.”

“Right away. Agatha!” The innkeeper called, and from a pair of swinging doors a lush redhead in an extremely snug overdress sashayed forth. “A bowl of mutton stew and a bitter for the good captain here!”

_This must be the inspiration of all of those limericks_ , Johann mused. Agatha favored Johann with an appraising eye, scanning him from his boots to the tip of his hat. Apparently passing inspection, she nodded appreciatively.

“Good. Things been getting dicey lately,” Agatha echoed the innkeeper. “Meals comin’ up, best stew in Senden, not that we’ve much competition.” Agatha chuckled huskily. “But I hope you’ll enjoy. We’re low on cheese, Fritz.” She directed to the innkeeper.

“I’ll take care of it, love,” the innkeeper replied.

Agatha was no ingenue, and had to be well into her thirties, but Johann could easily see how she could have inspired so much fascination, vulgar or no. It wasn’t just her physical charms which captivated (though they were considerable). The careless way her red tresses were tied back, the easy glide of her walk, the low rasp of her voice…Agatha carried a compelling air about her. Had she moved in Aldorf circles, Johann was certain that she would have snagged the attention of dukes rather than that of hormonal teenagers. Pity, that. She wasn’t exactly his type, but Johann appreciated beauty where he could find it.

“My wife Agatha,” the innkeeper, Fritz, beamed.

Johann would have wondered how a humble innkeeper could have lured such a fascinating lady to his side, but there was something compelling about Fritz as well. He was not conventionally beautiful like his wife, but there was a cheerful glint that lit up his ice blue eyes, a warmth to his speech, an elegance and dignity in the way he moved that was not something usually seen in small town hosts. Fritz’s clothes were simple but spotless and unwrinkled, his white curls wild but his goatee perfectly tidy and pointed.

“You’re a very lucky man,” Johann told him.

“Don’t I know it!” Fritz grinned. “Have a seat, Sir, and rest a moment. Agatha will take care of you. I’m afraid I must excuse myself. Fritz, by the way.” Fritz held out his hand in introduction.

Johann, unused to such informal greetings, was charmed and shook his hand with fervor. “Captain Johann Weber, grateful for a warm welcome here, at least.”

“Worry not,” Fritz assured him. “Senden will warm to you, once they see the wisdom of having an elite force on their doorstep, especially nowadays. Good day to you, Sir.”

Johann smiled in spite of himself. He made his way to the dining room and sat opposite the mysterious mustachioed man, who at this point was mopping up the remnants of his soup with a chunk of bread.

“Lady speaks truly of the stew,” the man said, his voice genial. “Not bad, not bad at all.”

“Good to hear.” Johann made himself comfortable and introduced himself.

“Heinrich Eberhart,” the man replied, smiling warmly and firmly shaking Johann’s hand. “Relieved to see Order presence in these parts. Been picking up some rather disturbing stories just in the short time I’ve been here.”

Heinrich was friendly enough, but there was something intense about his mien which immediately sent Johann’s suspicious nature into a frenzy. If there were a noise, Heinrich’s flinty grey eyes darted to it, and he seemed to be constantly scanning the room, poised to spring out of his chair. It wasn’t that Heinrich looked nervous or frightened, quite the opposite. Johann knew a man of action when he saw one.

“And what brings you to Senden?” Johann asked him.

“Oh, just a bartender, trying to figure out where to settle,” Heinrich folded his powerful-looking hands in front of him. “Was tired of big city life. Hoped to find something a little quieter out here.”

“Hmmm….” The motion drew Johann’s attention to Heinrich’s thickly muscled forearms, and the swell of his biceps stretched the sleeves of his plain linen tunic. _If he’s a bartender, I’m a potted plant._

“You seem a bit young for an Order Captain!” Heinrich grinned as Agatha arrived with Johann’s meal. “Bet that’s a good story.”

_Not even pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping_ , Johann thought, amused.

“It’s not a bad one, if I do say so,” Johann replied, a smile curving his lips. “If you have a little time.”

It would be a good way to gauge Heinrich’s reactions. Johann was about to remove his hat when the door to the in burst open and a gangly adolescent boy strode through.

“Frau Adelbert!” The boy addressed Agatha, who had been overseeing the ledger at that point; in a comically sharp, formal tone. “I arrive with the candlesticks your establishment has ordered. My fath-“

The boy noticed Johann and was struck dumb, his black eyes like dinner plates and his mouth agape. Stiff demeanor forgotten, the boy gawped at Johann in wonder.

“Real witch hunter…” The boy murmured.

Agatha chuckled, recalling the lad to his purpose. “Thank you, Victor. I’ll take the candlesticks. Hold on while I get your coin. I have some spare biscuits from breakfast, would you like one?”

“I…uh…” Victor tore his eyes away from Johann, seemingly remembering himself. “I thank you, madam, but I’ve no need of sweets. Such things corrode one’s purpose, as well as one’s teeth.”

Johann bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, and Heinrich pinched the sides of his mouth and cast his eyes to the corner of the room.

“Suit yourself.” Agatha shrugged, amused, apparently expecting this response.

She handed him the coins with a smile. “Give your parents our regards.”

Victor bowed sharply, stealing a few glances at Johann. “Of course, madam.”

“May Sigmar bless your day,” the boy added in a slightly louder voice, clearly meant for Johann to hear, then departed.

As soon as the door shut, Heinrich lost his composure, prompting Johann to follow suit.

“I have to know,” Johann asked Agatha, wiping his eyes. “Who on earth was that?”

“Oh, that’s Victor, the blacksmith’s boy.” Agatha grinned. “I’d recommend a visit to the smithy at some point, as his father’s work is remarkable. Apprenticed in Nuln, or so I’ve heard. The father’s…” Agatha’s expression softened. “He’s a lovely man. His mother’s… _devout_. Very devout.”

“Devotion is an admirable thing,” Johann remarked.

Agatha nodded, tight-lipped. “Indeed….well, I’m sure you’ll encounter her and then be able to judge for yourself. She’s a very…er… _driven_ woman.”

“Fair enough,” Johann replied, now intrigued.

“At any rate, you should be eating that stew, Captain!” Agatha chided. “It’s far better hot.”


End file.
